


Breaking Protocol

by ardentmuse



Series: Harry Hart Imagines [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Kidnapping, Kingsman!Reader, Spies & Secret Agents, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentmuse/pseuds/ardentmuse
Summary: REQUEST: Hi, love your “keep yourself safe” series. May I ask for a Harry Hart x Reader where Harry is captured in a botched mission, Y/N must watch the horrible torture being fed back live to Kingsman HQ. Y/N decided to rescue Harry on your own against the Kingman protocol and upon seeing a badly hurt Harry, Y/N confesses your love, cue the fluffy aftercare where Y/N soothes away Harry’s pain. - thx for considering





	Breaking Protocol

You were completely stunned. When the feed from Harry’s glasses went black as you sat beside Merlin, you immediately felt the air leave your lungs In your past three years with Kingsman, you’d found yourself alongside Harry in some sticky situations, but never had to bear witness to what they must have looked like to Merlin or anyone else watching back at Headquarters. Of course, you understood intricately what Merlin’s job entailed. You were his right hand, a wizard in your own right, operating tech on the ground, hacking into computers, controlling security systems, managing weapons tech, while Merlin played puppet-master at home.

But seeing the feed now as Merlin did every mission was devastating. One moment Harry was fine, snooping around the personal study of the target, Yaroslav Lukin, a Russian hit-man based in Paris tasked with taking out the Kremlin’s most elusive enemies. And the next, nothing. Darkness. You tried your best to breath but it was useless. You knew it was a bad idea for you to stay back. But Harry had convinced you it was the right thing. A woman was way too conspicuous among this group of particularly sexist criminals.

Merlin felt your hands grip the side of his chair, white-knuckled and rigid.

“Morgana?” you heard him call you from your trance.

You slowly turned to him, face washed of a few shades of color. He held your gaze, a silent request for you to pull it together.

“Is our feed still live or are we cut out entirely?” you asked.

“No, we’re still in. Just black. Maybe a bag over his head?” Merlin offered, as though that were somehow a pleasant development.

“But you don’t know?” you asked, trying not to sound accusatory. You really weren’t angry with Merlin, just angry. But you knew the rules. Harry was a skilled agent, who could get out of almost any predicament. Your role was to watch and provide what assistance you could to him from headquarters.

Merlin didn’t answer your question.

“Do you guys have eyes on Harry?” Eggsy asked through your earpiece. Eggsy was on the ground with Harry but was providing the necessary distraction to give Harry the time to explore the premises.

“No, he’s gone black. He’s been taken, but we don’t know where. Appears to be heading south though, but the signal isn’t clear,” Merlin said, calm and collected. Maybe you were a little angry with him for not taking Harry’s well being as seriously as you were.

“Fuck. I can’t go after him now, but keep tracking. Once these assholes are sufficiently drunk, I’ll make for him,” Eggsy told you both. You growled barely audibly. You thought at least Eggsy would be on your side on this. Were you the only one concerned that something bad might happen, that Harry might not be able to get out of this so easily? Or were you the only one who didn’t trust Harry enough to take care of himself? Or, alternatively, were you the only one putting Harry’s safety above the mission? You knew immediately you were guilty of just that, the one thing a Kingsman shouldn’t do. You felt a wave of guilt hit you, as if all of your other negative emotions weren’t enough.

Merlin looked at you again, concerned by your clear frustration, eyebrow raised. He reached for your hand, still clinging to his chair. “Breath, ‘ana. Harry’s got this.”

You swallowed and then nodded. You returned to the monitors, following Eggsy’s movements as Merlin worked to continue to track Harry.

After a few moments of working in silence, you asked Merlin, “You didn’t see anyone in the study?”

“No, but I’ve gone back to the footage and Harry did manage to catch I just a bit of him. Black dress shoes, grey slacks. Pretty large feet, too. Seemed to be only one man.”

“Eggsy, is anyone missing from your party? Tall, grey suit?” you asked. Eggsy was in the parlor with a large group of Russian “businessmen” discussing shop.

You watched as Eggsy’s eyes swept the room of the parlor over the shoulder of the target with whom he was currently conversing.

As though a natural part of the conversation, Eggsy asked Lukin, “Have you seen Petrov? I would love to discuss this with him as well.”

Lukin laughed, “I believe Petrov had some business to attend to upstairs.” He laughed again before throwing an arm around Eggsy’s shoulder.

Petrov. You knew that name from the case details. Grigory Petrov was Lukin’s right hand man and bodyguard. If Petrov’s business upstairs was Harry, then Lukin was responsible. Their entire cover was blown and Eggsy too was at risk. Your heart, already tightened, was now racing at breakneck speeds.

“Eggsy, he knows. Get out of there ASAP,” you advised Eggsy, even though you knew he knew. But it was really all you could do, so you kept talking.

Just as you said that, Harry’s camera’s returned. Your eye was immediately drawn to his screen, desperate to know how he was fairing.

But the sight didn’t ease your worry. Harry wasn’t fairing well. He looked down at his wrists, restrained to an old beaten metal chair. He was in a concrete room. Petrov was in front of him, bulky and intimidating, sleeves already rolled up, with a table of various objects that could only be described as gruesome torture equipment splayed out.

Merlin noticed your attentions shift and thus seamlessly moved to advising Eggsy on escape routes and Harry’s last known location.

You watched, as Harry pulled at his restraints once and then a second time, harder, before forcing himself to relax. That was always Harry’s way; two good attempts at force before moving to intellect to solve his problems. He had a system, clear and calculated, even in this most dire of scenarios. You couldn’t help but admire him, even as you felt a sheen of sweat on your brow at your nervousness.

“So, Alek, or whatever your real name is, how about you tell me who you work for?” Petrov asked, gently picking up a whip from the table and lovingly caressing the leather.

Harry didn’t say a word, didn’t even sway or flinch. After a moment, you watched as Harry’s whole body jerked, the crack ringing in your ear as the leather made contact with Harry’s bicep. He looked over to Petrov and you could see in the corner blood trickling down Harry’s arm. You pulled your lower lip into your mouth, willing yourself not to cry.

“You seem mighty stressed tonight, Petrov. Maybe a drink might help you settle your nerves. Might I suggest a dry Riesling?” Harry said, casual, not an ounce of the pain you knew he was feeling making its way into his voice.

Riesling? Harry hated Rieslings. He found them much too floral for his pallet. But then it hit you. He wasn’t talking to Petrov. He was talking to you.

Your first mission together had taken you to a vineyard that specialized in Rieslings just outside Strasbourg. A group of terrorists had been working on their latest bomb technology, utilizing the casks to hide large amounts of explosives. Harry had been so kind to you then, as you were still incredibly nervous. He waited patiently as you tapped security cameras and triggered the sprinkler systems to provide a proper distraction. He sung your praises as you helped him destroy the bomb the terrorists had hidden in the storage shed. He had become your ideal partner that day, and ultimately your truest friend.

You immediately switched your attention to Eggsy. “Eggsy, there’s a bomb.”

“What?” both Eggsy and Merlin’s voice called to you. With Merlin’s help, Eggsy had managed to escape the crowded parlor and was now in the estate’s gardens. “Where?” he asked you.

“I don’t know yet. Hold on.”

You turned your attention back to Harry, who was now slightly slumped over in his chair, as much as he could be given his restraints, another few lash marks upon his chest.

“Still not talking? I can make this a lot worse for you,” Petrov offered, folding his whip in two and approaching Harry.

“You know I have the best Rieslings at The Nine Muses in London? Just delicious. They always have my favorite.” Harry offered.

“Quite your yappin’!” Petrov yelled into Harry’s face, grabbing him harshly by the jaw. “You’re going to tell me what I want.”

The Nine Muses was the pub just down the street from the Kingsman storefront. After every mission, you and Harry would go have a drink upon return to the city. You’d always order the same thing; you, the Erato, their version of a mint julep, and Harry, the Calliope, a whiskey on ice with just a twist of lemon. You’d sit together and talk about anything but work, usually whatever either of you had been reading. Harry loved a good book and you had found early on that your shared interests allowed you to trust each other’s recommendations. You had even managed to get him to read a sappy romance novel or two, much to your surprise. And when you’d discuss those, you’d both drank a little more, hiding the tinge of pink in your cheeks as just a buzz of the alcohol, not your intense desire to relive some of those pages with the man in the booth beside you. The few times Eggsy had accompanied you both on these post-work hangs, he had only managed to scoff at the two of you repeatedly for what “cute nerds” you were together, forcing you both into fits of tipsy laughter.

You quickly searched the internet for classics in Paris. You had no idea where Harry was going with this, but you knew Calliope, muse of epic poetry, was your clue. And then you found it. Don Giovanni was being performed tonight at the Paris Opera House, opening night too. Rumors were that the Ukrainian representative to the United Nations and current Head of the UN Security Council was going to be in attendance.

“The Paris Opera House,” you yelled to Eggsy. “Target is the Ukrainian Rep to the UN. The performance starts in a half hour.”

On the screen, the image through Harry’s eyes bobbed up and down slightly, as if he were nodding to confirm you were right.

Merlin looked at you beside him, a slight smile coming out of the corner of his mouth. He had no idea how you were solving this puzzle but he was very impressed.

“Eggsy,” Merlin took over, “Head to the Opera House now. We’ll see what back-up we can send, but given the time, it will probably just be you.”

“But what about Harry?” Eggsy asked the question you’d wanted to ask for fifteen minutes now.

“Just go, Eggsy. Harry knows what he’s doing,” Merlin said. You knew he was right, but you wanted to protest.

Eggsy nodded and fled the gardens, taking out a few guards as he did so.

Merlin’s full attention was on you now.

“Morgana.” You turned to look at him. “Whatever weird telepathy you and Harry have going on now, keep it up. We need as much information as we can get from him before –“ Merlin cut himself off.

“Before what?” you asked, a tension in your voice you couldn’t eliminate.

Merlin sighed, “Before he can’t give it anymore.”

Your stomach bottomed out and you felt a cold cascade through your entire body. Did he really think Harry had no way out of this? You knew that was the truth of the life a Kingsman; you put your whole body on the line for the sake of the mission, for the sake of innocents. But you couldn’t lose Harry. You just couldn’t.

“No!” you shouted before you could stop yourself. You took a deep breath, “No,” you said in a much calmer tone.

Merlin didn’t know how to respond to your outburst. He returned to assisting Eggsy.

Back on Harry’s screen you saw a horrifying sight. Blood was beginning to pull in his lap from all the lashes of the whip; he could hardly hold his head up to look at Petrov anymore.

“You know,” Harry said, his voice ragged and weak, “My favorite Riesling has to be the ’09 or was it ’08 Chateau de la Lune. My friend Elena introduced it to me. Such a lovely, beautiful woman. I hope she knows –“

Harry was cut off my a punch in the face. The last thing you saw was shattered glass before the feed cut out entirely.

“Fuck!” you screamed, slamming your fist down on the desk. You could no longer hold back the tears in your eyes.

Merlin saw what happened and turned to you immediately. He took off his glasses, making your conversation private from Eggsy who was now solidly en route to the Opera.

Merlin grabbed you by the shoulders. You were shaking now with unshed tears, the few that did escape creating bright highlights on your reddened face.

“‘Ana, listen to me,” he said, tone even, his breathing calm, “Did Harry say anything before it cut out that could help us find him or stop this bomb?”

After a breath you said, “Something about Chateau de la Lune, but I don’t know what it means.”

“Then look. Harry knows how you think. Now just stay with me and stay focused. I know it’s hard, but he’s trusting you.”

Merlin’s words gave you an unknown resolve. Harry had placed his trust in you. You couldn’t disappoint him.

You nodded and sat. You did the obvious thing and searched for Chateau de la Lune. But it wasn’t a place. It wasn’t a wine. It wasn’t anything you could find of interest.

And then it clicked. Not Chateau de la Lune, but House of the Moon, the name of the whore house in the romantic novel you had forced him to read over a year ago. “Love, Lust, and What Lies Between” was a series of collected vignettes telling the stories of women working in a Dutch whore house in the 1910s and their key clientele. It was a beautiful reflection on love, sex, bodily autonomy, and human rights. You were surprised Harry remembered it.

You pulled up a PDF copy of the book onto your screen. ‘08 and ‘09 must be chapters. But there was no character named Elena that your knew of.

And then you found it, chapter 9, “Carlijn”, the one focused on the Madame. And part way through, she told a cautionary tale about a whore named Elena to her girls. In the tale, Elena was renowned for her beauty and gentleness and fell in love with a wealthy client named Bram. He came to her twice a week for months, not for sex but for her company, and after a while she finally agreed to run away with him. But when her brothel owners got word of her attempt to flee, they killed Bram, bringing Elena his head as a warning.

“I know where he is!” you exclaimed. You immediately stood, grabbing your coat and making for the door.

Merlin called to you harshly, “Morgana, don’t!”

“Merlin,” you said, stepping towards him, “you know I have to.”

Merlin sighed, “I do.”

By the time you arrived at your destination, two hours had passed. Eggsy was on his way to join you, having settled the situation at the Opera. But you couldn’t waste another minute.

Merlin had allowed you to take the jet once you explained to him where Harry was and how you didn’t think Eggsy would get there in time. In figuring out Harry’s meaning, you knew it was a clue to find his body, not to save his life. He didn’t think he’d make it. Merlin didn’t approve of your decision to go, warned you of the consequences, but he also knew he couldn’t stop you.

You worried the whole flight that you would be too late. Even though it was unlikely, as Harry was the only leverage these criminals had at the moment, you still were worried that you’d arrive to find his dead body and lose your job too. But you didn’t want to be a Kingsman if Harry was gone. You knew now that you loved him. The threat of losing him had made that abundantly clear.

And if he were dead, you knew you’d be haunted by those last words. “I hope she knows.” What did he need you to know? And when he said Elena was lovely, did he mean you or was he trying to trigger the memory?

When you got to the bathhouse, there were two guards standing guard. That was a good sign. You silently took them out and made your way inside, going straight towards the basement.

In the hallway, Petrov was talking to Lukin, both men clearly angered.

“The fucker won’t say a word,” Petrov fumed.

“Did you threaten his family? His woman?”

“Doesn’t seem to have one,” Petrov seemed pissed about that too.

“If he has important information, they’ll come for him. Give it twenty-four hours. If we don’t hear anything from whomever sent him, kill him.”

At that Lukin’s phone rang. He walked away to take it, entering a stairwell on the other end.

Petrov leaned against the concrete walls of the spa, pulling out a cigarette. You noticed now his knuckles and shirt sleeves were coated with drying blood. The fact that it was most likely Harry’s made you sick.

As quietly as you could, you snuck up towards him. You noticed bottles lining the floor and kicked one down the hall. Petrov pulled off the wall to look and with great speed you jumped on his back, pressing your forearm around his neck and into his throat. You maintained pressure as he struggled silently until he collapsed. You tied his hands behind his back and pushed him into the nearest closet. You used all the force you could muster to break the handle, securely locking him inside. Eggsy could deal with him in a more permanent fashion later.

You continued down the hall until you find a door ajar. You peaked you head in and upon seeing what was inside, you rushed forward.

Harry was still tied in the chair, which was now knocked over. His head showed signs of bleeding but the blood was clotted and his eye blackened. Lash marks marred his arms and torso. Immediately, you collapsed beside him, loosening his tied and pulling him into your arms. You knew it was risky to move an injured person. You also knew it was risky to not close the door behind you or take out Lukin, but you didn’t care. Harry was here and breathing and most certainly alive. He had trusted you to find him and you did. Now you had to trust Eggsy to tie up loose ends.

Holding him now in your lap, you cried, good, hard, tears that rocked your body with their force.

You heard a commotion in the hallway. Eggsy had arrived and was dealing with Lukin. Merlin was saying something to you but you were completely ignoring it. Harry was stirring in your lap. His eyes fluttered with signs of consciousness.

Your tears slowed as a warmth filled your chest where hollowness had been. Slowly, his gaze found yours, his lids blinking rapidly as if in disbelief. You wiped at your eyes to see him more clearly.

You smiled down at the man you loved. “Hi,” you managed to choke out before hiccuping to clear your throat of tears.

“Hi,” he offered in return before pulling you down into his arms, stroking your hair and kissing your temple.

When Eggsy found you a few minutes later, you both were still locked in an embrace, crumpled together as you sat on the concrete floor.

On the jet returning home, Eggsy had left you to care for Harry. Both Eggsy and Merlin wanted to be mad at you for clearly breaking protocol, but they couldn’t be. Seeing the way you and Harry clung to each other as if nothing else in the world mattered and watching as each of you failed to respond to his calls that you needed to leave immediately made it clear to Eggsy that no protocol would have stopped either of you from doing exactly what you did. And he figured giving you some time alone would help things in the future.

And so you sat beside Harry’s bed as he slept. He’d need proper medical care once you reached the ground but, for now, your bandages, ointments, and warm blankets would have to do.

He woke up just as you were redressing his arm bandages.

“Y/N?” he said, pulling your attention to his now open eyes. You immediately reached to stroke his face. “Why did you come for me?”

“The story of Elena,” you said. “She went to the bathhouse to ease her sadness. There she discovered the body of her lover on display as warming and drowned herself in her sorrow. You knew you were going to die. I had to do something.”

“No, you didn’t. That’s not the job.”

“My job isn’t to watch you die, either,” you said much more matter-of-fact than you felt. “I didn’t want to have to drown myself in sorrow over you.”

“Would you have?” he asked, wincing as you applied antiseptic to a particular nasty gash.

“I would,” you admitted, studying the bandage intently as to not have to meet his eyes. “When I thought you might be dead, I realized I didn’t want to be a Kingsman if you weren’t working beside me. And you know, my job is the most important thing in my life, which makes you the most important person in my life. I –” you cut yourself off. He was so tired. It wouldn’t be fair to spring “I love you” on him right now. But you had wanted to say it so badly.

Harry reached up to grab your arm that was finishing the wrapping of his wound.

“Y/N?” Harry asked. You turned your eyes up to his face. He was soft and smiling. You warmed at the appearance of it. He pulled you forward until you came forward into his arms. He scooted over on the bed so you could lie beside him. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. I understand. Thinking I was going to die, my biggest regret was you.

“Regret?” you asked as he began to slowly stroke your hair before having to pull away with a wince, the pain in his arm too much for him.

“Yes, I kept thinking of all the words I’d wanted to say to you but never did,” Harry mused. You curled up into his side, wanting closeness but not wanting to hurt him further. “It’s amazing how fearless I can be on a mission, but how cowardly when I look in your eyes,” Harry added, looking down at you, his face slightly pained.

“Harry, what were you going to say before Petrov punched you?” you asked him from your place on his chest. You felt a wave of peace wash over you with each rise and fall of his chest, confirmation that he was alive and breathing.

“I honestly don’t remember.”

“You said that Elena was beautiful and that you hope she knew. But then you were cut off. What did you hope she knew?” you asked, not willing yourself to assume he meant you.

Harry gently stroked your jaw. “Ah, yes, I was saying some of those things I would regret never saying. That you,” he emphasized the word by running his thumb over your bottom lip, “ are beautiful. That you are lovely. And that I hope you know how much I adore you.” Harry held you gaze meaningfully.

You swallowed, building up your courage. “Harry, I love you.” Your voice was still much quieter than you had hoped.

He tilted his head down to yours as best he could. “And I love you. Adore you. Live for you. I don’t know why I never said it before, but I’m glad I have the chance now.” His forehead rested upon yours, waiting your permission for a kiss you were more than willing to give.

As you lips met, all the pain and fear of the day washed away. It was replaced with a lightness and joy that left you feeling secure and safe in the knowledge that you were not alone in your feelings, that you loved a man who would love you in return, fiercely and with the greatest of reverence for everything that you are and that you have to offer.

When you pulled apart, you both smiled at each other, happy and content.

When Eggsy came back to let you know you’d be landing soon, he found you both asleep, heads still touching, holding each others hands, his two cute nerds finally together as they should be.


End file.
